Believe me, Mr Bond, I could shoot you from Stuttgart und still create ze proper effect.

(SPOILERS) Some of the reactions to Spectre would have you believe it undoes all the “good” work
cementing Daniel Craig’s incarnation of Bond in Skyfall. If you didn’t see that picture as the second coming of the
franchise (I didn’t) your response to the latest may not be so harsh, despite its
less successful choices (Blofeld among them). And it isn’t as if one step,
forward two steps back are anything new in perceptions of the series (or indeed
hugely divisive views on what even constitutes a decent Bond movie). After the raves greeting Goldeneye, Pierce Brosnan suffered a decidedly tepid response to
his second outing, Tomorrow Never Dies,
albeit it was less eviscerated than Craig’s sophomore Quantum of Solace. Tomorrow’s
reputation disguises many strong points, although it has to be admitted that a Moore-era
style finale and a floundering attempt to package in a halcyon villain aren’t among
them.

The Bond series’
flirtations with contemporary relevance have always been a mixed bag, from the
détente of the Moore era (in the sense that the series was informed by an arch
approach generally, this has aged fairly well) to Dalton’s excursion to
Afghanistan (a bit of an ouch, that one) to Craig’s somewhat ham-fisted
attempts at commentary on the surveillance state. The next Brosnan would dip its
fingers in oil, but Tomorrow Never Dies
hits on a premise with a lot of potential, both in terms of broad satire and
the creation of a classic era larger-than-life villain, and then only partially
fulfils it.

This is a Bond that
was subject to a degree of strife due to its screenplay not being shipshape.
There were exchanges between director Roger Spottiswoode and the producers over
which version was to be used (it had been worked on by Nicholas Meyer, Dan
Petrie Jr and David Campbell Wilson, although Bruce Feirstein gets the final
credit; Spottiswoode favoured the pre-Feirstein final draft), and
dissatisfaction was also voiced by Brosnan, Jonathan Pryce and Teri Hatcher.

The abandonment of the original idea, relating to the handover
of Hong Kong to China and a bad guy who wants to devastate the former on the
eve of delivery, sounds like it was a wise move, smacking as it does of
desperate fishing for topicality. Feirstein claimed Pryce’s Elliot Carver
wasn’t based on Rupert Murdoch but Robert Maxwell, and the reference to Carver
drowning after falling off his yacht is certainly a reference to the latter,
but one also has to think Feirstein was opting for the line of best defence; Maxwell
isn’t still around to give him bad press, after all.

Purportedly the Carver role was turned down by Anthony
Hopkins; to be honest, Hopkins was so over-saturated by this this point, it
would have been too bleeding obvious to have him as a Bond villain and the character would probably have suffered
accordingly. As it is, the picture has a slightly too generic sheen to it,
despite its plus points, assembly-fitted in a way Goldeneye mostly avoids. Jonathan Pryce, the cheaper villain
option, unfortunately yields to his penchant for hamming it up at the expense
of any real menace.

He’s closer to his whacky turns in Terry Gilliam’s The Adventures of Baron Munchausen and Brothers Grimm (where such over-playing was appropriate) and, combined with the
highly trad Mr Stamper as henchman (beach blonde Aryan type Götz
Otto playing a devotee of chakra torture; alas, we never get to see him
practice his art), there’s a sense of coasting here, failing to take advantage
of the possibilities on the media satire plate.

Elliot Carver: Mr Stamper. I’m having fun with my headline.

While yes, it’s a Bond
movie so we don’t expect a rigorously finessed plot, the manner in which Carver
doesn’t even attempt to disguise his engineering of events (his headline
concerning the attack “by China” on a British frigate appears before the
Ministry of Defence even know the full details), such that 007 is set on his
trail immediately, is the kind of thing that was silly way back in Thunderball; here it just looks like
laziness.

Still, there’s a scattering of pot-shots at the machinations
of big media that make the Carver Media Group Network, able to topple governments
with a single broadcast, a still relevant creation. New computer software is
full of bugs “Which means people will be
forced to upgrade for years” while the President is manipulated into
signing a bill lowering cable rates or else the video of him with a cheerleader
in a Chicago Motel Room will be released (the Lewkinsky Scandal wouldn’t emerge
for another year). Sure, some of the lines are disappointingly crude (“There’s no news like bad news” Carver
extols, relishing the thought of a billion people reading about his manufactured
conflict first on his media group, and “The
distance between insanity and genius is only measured by success”).

Carver, who holds that “Great
men always manipulate the media to save the world” wants broadcasting rights
in China, and plans to escalate his engineered crisis by sending a British
missile to take out the Chinese government and then having his proxy General
Chang to swoop in and broker peace before relations can get too out of hand (he
doesn’t actually intend to start World War III, although near as dammit). The
idea that Change would garner a Nobel Peace Prize for his troubles is almost as
absurd as giving Obama one.

Pryce’s casual villainy is occasionally quite successful (“I have a problem with a banker”; I think
we should set an appointment for my wife with the Doctor”) and a headline like
“The Empire Will Strike Back” is the
spit of what one would expect from The Sun in such a scenario. But when he
reduces himself to imitating the Kung Fu moves of Wai Lin (Michelle Yeoh), he
just looks risible. You might say that’s the intention, but if a Bond villain carries no weight at all,
the picture inevitably becomes lop-sided.

There’s already enough here ensuring that, alas. The
pre-credits sequence is rather lacklustre, setting up Ricky Jay as a
techno-terrorist (and former student radical) who steals a GPS Encoder for
Carver. It’s fairly light on Brosnan, framed by MI6 monitoring the situation
until he pops up, and when he does it’s replete with every-other-action-movie
waving a machine gun about. This was probably one of things Brosnan wanted to
rein in when it came to The World is Not
Enough, and understandably so. Also, with another opening sequence
involving an aeroplane, it draws unflattering comparisons to its predecessor.

Admiral Roebuck: With all due respect, M, sometimes I don’t
think you have the balls for this job.

M: Perhaps, but the advantage is, I don’t have
to think with them all the time.

The sequence also sets up Dame Judi as once again dropped
into tediously gender-driven conflict, this time with Geoffrey Palmer’s Admiral
Roebuck (in one scene future Oscar-winning Dench shares a moment with future
Oscar-winning toff Julian Fellows). The last Bond with such a high navy quotient was The Spy Who Loved Me, and those sequences were also the least of
that outing (Bond never looks quite right uniformed).

M is given to ripostes such as “His job!” when Roebuck asks, “What
the hell is he doing?” M’s very much in Bond’s court now, letting him do
his thing (“The PM would have my head if
he knew we were investigating him”, being Carver, another nod to the power
of the Murdoch press) and getting all Bond groupie with Moneypenny (“Don’t ask” the latter says; “Don’t tell” M replies).

The subsequent titles too are entirely forgettable (if I
mention CGI, suspended guns, x-rays and diamonds, you probably still won’t
remember it), which rather matches the Sheryl Crowe theme song (KD Lang’s Surrender over the end titles is far
superior). David Arnold probably stayed doing the Bond scores too long, and there can be a sense that he’s a bit rote
in appropriating John Barry by way of electronica, but in his debut his work is
mostly satisfying, particularly so his collaboration with the Propellerheads in
the car park chase sequence.

Of which, while the picture fumbles to get up steam, and
falters to a conclusion, Tomorrow’s
mid-section flows extremely well, with number of accomplished scenes and set
pieces. Spottiswoode had received acclaim with early pictures including Under Fire, but his last major big
screen outing had been lambasted Stallone comedy Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot. The director had shown interest in the
series during the ‘80s but presumably, when Martin Campbell turned the gig
down, the producers went down their list of malleable yes men who didn’t
intrude too much on the series nuts and bolts approach.

I wouldn’t say Spottiswoode exactly brings
flair to the proceedings, but there are nice touches in most of the sequences, such
as the fight between Bond and Carver goons playing out behind soundproofed
glass, suggesting he wasn’t just sitting back and letting the second unit get
on with it (see his successor).

Then there’s the remote control car chase, infectiously
scored, as Bond navigates his latest BMW product placement from the back seat (ending
with a it crashing into an Avis storefront; for whom Q was posing as when he
signed the car over).

Prior to this, Arnold also offers good support when Bond
breaks into Carver’s offices, with a lovely little touch while he is under fire
as he looks quizzically at Wai Lin escaping by climbing vertically down a wall.

The later Vietnam sequence, leaping and ducking a helicopter on a (BMW product
placement) motorbike is also impressively rendered (“Pop the clutch”). If he’s out of inspiration come the confrontation
aboard Carver’s stealth boat (the HALO and diving sequences are also
unremarkable), it’s not uncommon for the series to fudge the grand finale.

Doctor Kaufman: My name is Doctor Kaufman. I am an outstanding
pistol marksman. Take my word for it, ya?

Bond: It won’t look like suicide if you shoot me
from over there.

Doctor Kaufman: I am a professor of forensic medicine.
Believe me, Mr Bond, I could shoot you from Stuttgart und still create ze
proper effect.

The absolute highlight of the movie occurs between the visit
to Elliot’s offices and the car park scene, in which Bond is accosted by
Vincent Schiavelli’s Doctor Kaufman. Schiavelli is best recognised for his
background role in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s
Nest and Patrick Swizzle-mentoring subway ghoul in Ghost, and he relishes the chance to actuate a more refined
villainous type here.

He only has one scene, but Schiavelli’s easily the best bad
guy of the Brosnan era (and probably Craig too), encapsulating the
unfortunately elusive alchemy of humour, threat and presence. Kaufman’s
diligent politeness, combined with his effusive list of qualifications (“More like a hobby” he replies when Bond
asks him if he is a doctor of torture too) and apology over his colleagues’
failure to gain access to Bond’s car (“It
is very embarrassing”). Even his demise is a classic of its sort (“Wait, I’m just a professional doing a job”;
“So am I” responds 007).

Bond: I’m just up here in Oxford, brushing up on a
little Danish.

Indeed, it’s nice to have a scene where Brosnan clearly
knows the material is good and can dig into it, since elsewhere he’s a bit
adrift. He’s still as fine a mover as ever when it comes to action, but the bad
quips aren’t really landing (“Backseat driver”;
“If I didn’t know better I’d have said
he’s developed an edifice complex”; “I
would have thought watching one of your TV shows was torture enough”; “You forgot the first rule of mass media. Give
the public what they want!” as he shoves Elliot into his sea drill).

Moneypenny probably gets the most tired and well-wrung line,
though (“You always were a cunning
linguist, James”). At times, the gags are even a bit much for the relentlessly
sociopathic Bond persona; “They’ll print
anything these days” says 007 after dispatching a hapless stooge, who was
decidedly not an armed security guard, to a grizzly fate in a printing press;
such callousness comes at an ironically apposite time, since this was the same
year as the first Austin Powers, in
which the fall-out of a poor unfortunate minion is felt by his family.

Possibly Brosnan pressed for a bit more substance to his
female leads following Goldeneye.
Certainly, the right ingredients are there, even if they don’t ultimately
amount to very much. Wai Lin is that rarity, a capable female lead who actually is capable (the Brosnan era, despite
Christmas Jones, has a generally superior track record on this than Craig’s to
date), and because Yeoh isn’t your typical bikini babe the relationship with
Bond is a little more respectful on his part. Yeoh is particularly good playing
up indulging him as the big kid (as when Bond investigates Chinese
intelligence’s Q-like gadgets; “Very
novel” he comments of an ornamental dragon flame thrower).

Hatcher’s Paris Carver is a bit of a throwaway role, much as
Monica Bellucci ‘s was in Spectre
(notably Bellucci auditioned for Paris and didn’t get it, much to Brosnan’s
chagrin). Hatcher sports an impressive array of suspenders (one thing noticeable
here is how Brosnan’s Bond, in the heat of passion, gets quite bitey; he should
have played Vlad), but we’re not buying that they were once a really hot item (“Did I get too close?” she asks, to which
Bond replies in the affirmative), and that needs to be accomplished in a single
scene if the pay-off is going to work.

Interestingly, though, the finger is repeatedly pointed at
Bond in terms of responsibility; “A pity
you got her involved in this” opines the Doctor, while Carver chastises “Actually, you’re the one who wrote my wife’s
obituary, when you asked her to betray me”. It’s the kind of thread the
Craig era would no doubt love (although the attempts to claim his is so much
weightier are often rather flimsy, since Brosnan had mostly been there first,
if to very variable effect).

Q: (Showing him
the new phone) Talk here, listen here.

Bond: So that’s what I’ve been doing wrong all
these years.

Q has a nice drop-by in Desmond Llewelyn’s penultimate
appearance. He’s basically showing off much of the product placement – I hope
Llewelyn got paid well – from the latest BMW to a charmingly antique Ericsson
phone (there’s also a new Walther, but courtesy of Chinese Intelligence).
Brosnan’s rapport with Llewelyn is a blast, and there’s a nice bit of business
as Bond shows Q how a remote control car should be handled. Mercifully too, M
is sandwiched around the ends of Tomorrow,
rather than permeating the plot. Unless there’s a really vital reason for the
character to be integrated, that’s how she/he works best. Also, as a reminder
of how much better it all worked last time, Joe Don Baker is also granted an
all-too brief cameo.

I think when I first saw Tomorrow
Never Dies I probably over-credited it for how well the second act works
and for even trying to throw in a bit of satire on mass media. As a whole, it’s
too formulaic and lacking in finesse, but it’s still easily the second best of
the Brosnan Bonds, and above average
as these things go. It was the first Bond
released post-Cubby Broccoli’s death, and the first to with a title not referencing
Bond history (books, movies, Ian Fleming
himself). There was a rush to get the picture released, but even the consequent
price tag of $110m pales in comparison to Spectre’s,
even inflation adjusted ($160m to $250m). It was a big hit, of course, fourth
for the year globally, albeit not as big as Goldeneye
and was kept off the top spot in the US by Titanic.

The real take away from Tomorrow
Never Dies is the series inevitable propensity for playing it safe,
however. After the vigour applied by Campbell, going with proficient journeymen
Spottiswoode (and reliable screenwriter Feirstein) kept the series ahead of the
rather static approach of John Glen, but meant the picture looked exactly like
every other action move out there. This struggle between formula and a desire
to stand out fro the pack is something the series is still struggling to come
to terms with.

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